


The Pirates! In an Adventure with Origin Stories

by Verecunda



Category: Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists! (2012)
Genre: Humour, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3078701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verecunda/pseuds/Verecunda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his ship is boarded by a brine-soaked terror of the high seas, the first lieutenant is the only one who can deal with him. An epic tale of adversity, swashbuckling, and ham.</p><p> <i>or</i></p><p> So how did someone as sensible as the Pirate with a Scarf end up as first mate to the Pirate Captain anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pirates! In an Adventure with Origin Stories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fandom_Butterfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandom_Butterfly/gifts).



> A/N: A rather belated gift fic for my dear little sis, since it's her OTP. It was meant to be for Christmas, but that didn't happen, so it’s now more of a New Year’s present. Hope you enjoy, wee one! *hugs* After all, it’s your fault I ship it! :P
> 
> Also, honourable mention to [hoc_voluerunt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hoc_voluerunt), since this headcanon was partly the result of our shared feels about the Pirate with a Scarf.
> 
> Movie!verse, but there are lots of references to the books as well. :) Naturally, _The Pirates!_ belong to Gideon Defoe and Aardman Animations, not to me.
> 
> Warning: contains flagrant disregard for nautical accuracy, unmitigated daftness, and lots of stupid jokes at the expense of distinguished figures from naval history! And a random cameo from _Master and Commander_. ;)

“Sail, ho!” came the shout from the masthead. “Fine on the larboard bow!”

The first lieutenant was at the weather rail in a second, telescope already trained on the horizon, where he could just make out the rake of the distant masts. Technically, it was the second lieutenant’s watch, but he was currently entangled in a tricky bit of rigging while the midshipmen laughed at him, so he was a bit preoccupied.

The first lieutenant looked hard at the faraway ship for a few minutes, trying to work out what she might be - or whom she might belong to. Her sails were distinguishable now, but there was no man o’ war’s pennant that he could see. In fact, she didn’t seem to be flying colours of any kind at all. A horrible suspicion began to form in his mind, sending his stomach flipping over like an especially jumpy pancake - a suspicion that only increased when he realised that the distant ship had altered course and was making straight for them. He frowned at it, weighing up the possibilities, before clapping his telescope to and turning away.

“Keep an eye on that sail,” he called up to the lookout, then made his way down the companionway to the great cabin. With a nod to the marine sentry, he knocked on the cabin door. There came a faint whine of, “Just five more minutes, Mummy.” The first lieutenant gave him a second, knocked again, and this time the captain’s irritable bark of, “Enter!” rumbled out.

The captain had apparently been catching a quick forty winks on the stern-lockers, because he looked bleary and rumpled and bad-tempered as the first lieutenant slipped into the cabin. “Well, man? What is it?”

“Sail on the horizon, sir,” said the first lieutenant, touching his hat to his commander, “coming up fast. She’s not showing any colours; I think she might be a pirate ship.”

“Pirates?!” boomed the captain, jerked out of his sleepy state at long last. Pulling on his hat, he sprung to his feet, suddenly the very picture of efficiency in the Royal Navy. “Well, let us waste no more time, sir; let’s take a look at this ship of yours.”

On deck again, the first lieutenant was shocked to see that the unknown ship was much closer now - in a way that seemed to defy all laws of physics and common sense - and the nervous pancake-flipping in his stomach was doing enough work for a Shrove Tuesday picnic.

“Should we beat to quarters, sir?” he asked, as the captain stared through his glass. 

“Hm?” said the captain. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary, lieutenant. What pirate would be foolish enough to attack a frigate of the Royal Navy? No, we shall simply wait till he gets too close and -”

Just then, there came another shout from the lookout, and the first lieutenant looked over, just in time to see a flag break out at the unknown ship’s masthead. A chill went through him when he realised what the flag was: a skull and crossbones. The Jolly Roger. 

Then the lookout shouted that he couldn’t see anyone on the deck, and that’s when everything went to hell.

“Ghost pirates!” screamed the superstitious foretopman.

“ _The Flying Dutchman_!” wailed the hysterical purser’s clerk.

“We’re fish in a barrel!” moaned the pessimistic master.

Shouts rent the air, and the deck of the frigate thundered with two hundred sets of panicky footsteps as the ship’s company ran this way and that like headless chickens, or at the very least, blindfolded chickens.

“She’s bringing her guns to bear, sir,” the first lieutenant shouted over the noise. “Should we -?”

He turned round, just in time to see the ship’s company piling themselves into the boats and fending off. They got away pretty quickly, but unfortunately they rowed right into the nearest line of longitude, which twanged them into the air and sent them flying straight over the horizon. The first lieutenant watched them go disconsolately, suddenly alone on the deserted quarterdeck. Then he turned his attention back to the swiftly-approaching pirate ship. 

“Right.” 

Now he was the only one left to preserve the dignity of the Royal Navy. He wasn’t looking forward to this at all.

The frigate had no way on her now, especially now that there was no one left to work her, and the pirate ship soon ranged up alongside. There was a sudden flurry of movement on her deck, a grappling-hook flew out and caught onto the frigate’s mainyard, and as the first lieutenant watched, a figure launched itself out on the end of the rope. It swung across the narrow lane of water between the two ships, leaping clear and executing a neat somersault, before a pair of feet in exquisite shiny boots landed squarely on the quarterdeck, and a cutlass was drawn with a flourish.

“Aaaarrrr! I’m the Pirate Captain, and I’m here for your gold!”

The first lieutenant took a step backwards, since that seemed to be really the only sensible thing to do when someone was waving a cutlass in your face. His mind was racing, trying to work out which notorious terror of the high seas he was facing. It must be a particularly fearless and bloodthirsty buccaneer to dare take on a Royal Navy frigate. It might even be - his blood ran cold - it might even be the infamous Black Bellamy, scourge of the Spanish Main.

But no, he thought as he took a good look at the man in front of him, that didn’t seem quite right. In all the wanted posters, Black Bellamy had a face like thunder and a thick black beard up to his eyes. But this man had a pleasant, open face and glittering brown eyes, with a nose that he might have described as stentorian if it hadn’t been for the fact that stentorian was a word that really only applied to voices, not noses. He did have a beard, but it was brown, and possibly the most luxuriant beard he had ever seen.

“Um...” he began, not really sure what the proper procedure was for dealing with pirates. He decided to take the traditional route. So he drew his sword and offered it hilt-first. “First lieutenant, His Majesty’s frigate _Competence_ , Captain. Please accept my surrender, and spare the ship.”

The luxuriantly bearded Pirate Captain lowered his cutlass, his brown eyes widening in surprise. “O-oh... a frigate, you say?”

This was decidedly not the response that the first lieutenant had been expecting, and it took him rather aback. “Um... yes.”

“Hell’s barnacles.” Now the Pirate Captain let his cutlass fall away entirely, looking utterly downcast. “I say, old fruit, there’s no chance at all, is there, that this whole frigate thing is just a cunning ruse, and that you’re really a Spanish treasure ship stuffed to the gills with gold?”

He looked so earnest that the first lieutenant felt quite bad for having to reply, “...No. Sorry.”

The Pirate Captain heaved a sigh, and kicked his fancy boots against the deck in frustration. “Oh, for - Neptune’s nose! Why does this always happen to me?! Don’t you have anything I can plunder? Spare change? Unwanted Christmas present? Some especially nice pieces of stationery?”

The first lieutenant felt in his pockets, and shook his head. “Afraid not, sir.” Their frigate hadn’t been very lucky in the way of prize-money, and the only thing that he had of any value was the scarf that his grandma had knitted him for his birthday, which he’d promised he’d wear every day to avoid catching cold, even in the West Indies. And that, he supposed, was really more sentimental value than anything that would appeal to a pirate.

“Nothing at all?” asked the Pirate Captain.

The first lieutenant thought about it. “There’s the slop room, I suppose, and the captain’s stores. I don’t suppose he’ll be coming back for them. The champagne, the ham...”

At this, the Pirate Captain perked up, and turned back to him with a noticeable gleam in his eye. “I say, lieutenant, did you say... did you say _ham_?”

The first lieutenant frowned. “...Yes?”

“Ah, well!” said the Pirate Captain, looking much more cheerful now. “That’s something, at least! You don’t mind, do you?”

“Oh,” said the first lieutenant. “No, sir, help yourself.”

“Splendid!” cried the Pirate Captain, and with a grin he disappeared into the great cabin. The first lieutenant stayed on the quarterdeck, feeling rather awkward about the whole situation. Something told him that he probably shouldn’t have turned over possession of the ship so quickly, even to a man with a beard as luxuriant as the Pirate Captain’s, but then again, it probably wasn’t a good idea to cross a pirate at this stage, unless he fancied being run through. With a small sigh, he made his way aft and resignedly set about striking the colours. He was neatly folding the ensign when the Pirate Captain appeared on deck again, lugging a large joint of ham under one arm, a brilliant grin beaming through his beard.

“Well, it wasn’t a total loss, I’m happy to say. This is by far the finest ham I have ever seen! In fact, I think I’ll make it my Prize Ham, a trophy of my victory over the Royal Navy!

“Now, lieutenant,” he said, adopting a serious face, “you’d best come with me. I’ve set a little fire in the hold - wreaking mayhem and destruction and all that sort of thing - and there are some formalities to observed: marooning, walking the plank, and so on.”

“Of course,” said the first lieutenant sadly. He didn’t really fancy either of those options, but he supposed they would be less excruciating than a court martial for losing the ship. So without further ado, he and the Pirate Captain swung across to the pirate ship, just before the frigate exploded and burnt a hole in the map.

-

A few hours later, the first lieutenant found himself standing in the great cabin of the pirate ship. The cabin was chock-full of _stuff_ \- the expected piles of nautical equipment: charts and astrolabes and sextants - but also a lot of other stuff, like a train set, and a Venus flytrap, and a lot of pictures, mostly of the Pirate Captain. He was standing in front of a large, gilt-framed portrait of the Pirate Captain cradling a dying swan in his arms, entitled WHY?, when the door opened, and in came the real Pirate Captain, minus the dying swan, of course.

“We’re well underway now,” he announced, pleased. “I must say, lieutenant, you’re awfully good at this nautical thing. I had no idea that all those flappy bits of canvas had different names!”

“Thank you, Captain,” said the first lieutenant uncertainly, wondering what his fate was going to be now.

“Yes, indeed, it’s ideal to be good at nautical things when you’re at sea,” said the Pirate Captain, thoughtfully stroking his moustache. “I think that’s the first time we’ve ever set a proper course, when you showed me how to do it. I do have a first mate, but he’s not very good at this kind of thing.”

The first lieutenant stared at the figure next to the Pirate Captain. “But that’s a fish in a hat, Captain,” he said.

The fish in a hat gulped.

“Yes...” said the Pirate Captain, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “You see, the thing is, I have a bit of a problem trying to find recruits for my crew, so I’ve had to make do.”

The first lieutenant had to wonder how the pirate ship was able to do anything when it had no crew except for the Pirate Captain and a fish in a hat, but it seemed to work against all the known rules of the universe anyway.

“All right, you swab, go and tie some ropes somewhere,” said the Pirate Captain, kicking the fish in a hat rather unceremoniously out of the cabin and closing the door. He sat down in the chair behind his desk, which was strewn with maps, including several of the Spanish Main and one of the London Underground. “Now, lieutenant,” he said, “we have to decide what to do about you.”

The first lieutenant’s heart didn’t just sink: it broached to and went down with all hands.

“Now, obviously, the usual piratical etiquette is for the pirate in question - in this case, me - to attack the luckless ship, run her crew through, then make off into the sunset with all their treasure.”

The first lieutenant nodded. That was certainly what he understood.

“But, you see, my problem here - oh, barnacles! Where are my manners? Ship’s biscuit?” he asked, holding out a tin.

“Oh,” said the first lieutenant, surprised. “Thank you, Captain.” He watched the Pirate Captain take a ship’s custard cream, and helped himself to a ship’s bourbon. Neither of them bothered with the ship’s Digestives.

“You see, my problem,” continued the Pirate Captain, “is that obviously your ship didn’t have any treasure, and really, the only booty I managed to pick up was the ham. And you, of course.”

The first lieutenant wasn’t really sure how he felt about being called “booty”, but he didn’t think the Pirate Captain was really trying to be impolite on purpose, so he decided it wasn’t worth making a fuss over.

“And now I’ll have to go back to Blood Island, but none of the other pirates are going to believe that I really did capture a Royal Navy ship, if I’ve got nothing to show for it, are they? They’ll think I’m just making it up, and I’ll be laughed out of port again.”

The first lieutenant listened to this with sympathy. He had never really thought about competitiveness between pirates before, but he supposed it only made sense that it did exist.

At that moment, they were both distracted from the problem of the other pirates not believing the Pirate Captain’s claim, by a sudden movement in the corner of the cabin. There was a basket on the floor there, and from this basket came a large, round shape, which the first lieutenant had at first thought was a ball, or a strange type of rock, but was actually a very plump grey bird with little wings. She waddled over to the Pirate Captain, who picked her up and placed her gently on the deck, before feeding her a few custard creams from the biscuit tin.

“There you go, old girl,” he said fondly, patting her on the head while she cooed happily. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

The bird caught sight of the first lieutenant sitting on the opposite side of the desk, and waddled curiously over to him. The first lieutenant fed her the last corner of his ship’s bourbon, and with a little squawk of contentment she hopped into his lap and nestled down. The first lieutenant smiled and stroked her feathery back.

“What’s her name, sir?”

“Polly,” said the Pirate Captain. “I got her from my old mentor Calico Jack at a discount when he set up his second-hand parrot emporium. She’s a bit big-boned, I grant you, but she’s much better than that idiot parrot Gary I used to have.”

So while Polly snoozed in the first lieutenant’s lap, the Pirate Captain got back to business.

“Anyway, you see my problem. Just put yourself in my shoes, lieutenant!”

The first lieutenant nodded thoughtfully. “Well... I suppose you could take me along to Blood Island with you, and I could confirm to the other pirates that you did take my ship. They’d have to believe you then.”

The Pirate Captain’s face brightened. “I say! That’s a good idea, lieutenant. It’s definitely allowed for a pirate to take captives, though they generally tend to be swooning ladies. You - er - you wouldn’t fancy disguising yourself as a swooning lady, would you?”

“Not really, Captain,” said the first lieutenant with a smile.

“No, I suppose not,” said the Pirate Captain, with a sigh. “Well, it’ll have to do. Another biscuit?”

“Thank you, sir,” said the first lieutenant, and took another bourbon.

They sat around companionably for a while and ate a few more biscuits, until the first lieutenant suggested that they should probably go out on deck and check on the ship’s progress. The first mate conned the helm - or at least, stood near the helm and gulped vacantly.

“Move aside, Number Two,” said the Pirate Captain imperiously, taking the helm himself and thrusting a dramatic finger towards the horizon. “Full speed ahead!”

The pirate ship sailed on through the seas, with apparently no concern for any of the usual laws of wind and currents. The first lieutenant busied himself with hauling on the occasional rope or polishing the anchor, just for something to do. He was absentmindedly tying a reef-bend in a spare bit of rope when he heard footsteps on the deck, and a shadow fell across him. His hands stilled, and he looked up to see the Pirate Captain looking at him curiously.

“How do you do it, lieutenant?”

“Do what, Captain?”

“You know...” said the Pirate Captain, twisting his fingers round and round each other in some sort of confused mime. “How is it you’re so good at all these... _useful_ things about the ship?”

The first lieutenant found himself caught short, unable to hide his surprise. It wasn’t a question that anyone had ever asked him before. He smiled, and glanced down at the half-tied knot in his hands. “Well, sir, I was a midshipman under Captain Hardy when I was a boy. I suppose I must’ve picked up a few things from him.”

“Oh,” said the Pirate Captain, his eyebrows flying up. “Neptune’s navel, that’s impressive!” He paused. “Does that include the - er - the kissing?”

For a moment, the first lieutenant was dumbstruck. Then he laughed. “No, sir.”

“Ah. Well,” said the Pirate Captain, setting his shoulders back. Then, all of a sudden, as if some deeply-ingrained mariner’s instinct had gripped him, he pulled his telescope out of his beard, and looked towards the horizon. “Aaaarrrr,” he said, with a deep note of satisfaction. “Blood Island, at last!”

The first lieutenant stood with the Pirate Captain at the rail, watching the tiny speck of land in the distance come closer with mounting trepidation. He had heard of Blood Island, of course. It was marked in all the naval charts and was notorious as a pirate den. Not that the Royal Navy tended to bother the place much. Officially, it was said there was an uneasy truce between them, but the rumour went that the Governor just didn’t want to attack because he didn’t want to make it to look like he was bitter about Jamaica losing out to Blood Island in the Caribbean in Bloom contest.

The Pirate Captain brought them into the harbour himself, putting the helm over so sharply that it gave the first lieutenant whiplash and sent him sprawling headlong into the pin-rail. He clambered to his feet and nursed the bruise on his head, just in time to be thrown off his feet again as the Pirate Captain brought them crunching up against the side of the quay, and over one poor old pirate in a jolly-boat who didn’t quite manage to get out the way on time. 

“All right, Number Two,” said the Pirate Captain to the fish in a hat, as he hoisted Polly the parrot onto his shoulder, “I’m trusting you to mind the boat while we’re gone.”

They let down the gangplank, and the Pirate Captain and the first lieutenant made their way into the ramshackle pirate town. As they walked along the front, past the doubloon shoppes and ice-cream stands, the first lieutenant looked around his new surroundings with interest. He had never visited a pirate port before, and he couldn’t help but find it all quite exciting.

They passed by a wall plastered with wanted posters, all of them depicting notorious pirates and the rewards offered for their capture. The first lieutenant recognised the names of several that were particularly wanted by the Royal Navy: Black Bellamy, Cutlass Liz, and Peg-Leg Hastings, to name but a few. 

Then, down in one corner, he spotted a poster depicting the Pirate Captain, though unlike the pirates in all the other posters, who were all posing with piratical swagger, the image of the Pirate Captain looked rather dejected. And no wonder, because his reward was given as a mere eight doubloons. He saw the Pirate Captain glance at the poster and shake his head sadly, and he felt an unexpected stab of sympathy.

“I’m sure they’ll put your reward up, Captain,” he ventured, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “just as soon as word gets out about your audacious capture of that frigate.”

The Pirate Captain turned round to look at him with an odd, curious expression. “Do you really think so, lieutenant?”

“Er... absolutely, yes!”

This seemed to cheer the Pirate Captain up tremendously, for all at once, he straightened his back, gave a particularly piratical “Aaaarrrr!” and led the way along the waterfront with a fresh swagger, until they reached a seedy-looking pirate tavern called the Barnacle’s Face.

“Just follow my lead,” he said in a conspiratorial tone. Before the first lieutenant could protest, he kicked the door open with his shiny booted foot and strode inside, which left the first lieutenant little option but to follow.

The Barnacle’s Face was filled with just about every kind of pirate you could think of: pirates in headscarves, pirates with gold teeth, pirates with eyepatches, pirates with hooks, pirates with knives clenched between their teeth, and they all glared at the Pirate Captain and the first lieutenant as they entered.

“Ahoy, lubbers!” roared the Pirate Captain, and for dramatic emphasis, he drew his cutlass and used it to smash some tankards off the nearest table. Unfortunately, he slashed down a little too enthusiastically, so while it had the desired effect of making the occupants of the table jump in shock, he also got his cutlass stuck in the table. “Neptune’s beard.” For a while, he just grunted and struggled to dislodge the blade from the wood, in the middle of an awful silence in which every pirate in the tavern glared harder at him. The first lieutenant hovered nearby, grimacing in embarrassment on the Pirate Captain’s behalf.

Finally, the Pirate Captain succeeded in wrenching his cutlass free from the table. “R-right, well,” he said, “where was I?”

“‘Ahoy, lubbers’, Captain,” muttered the first lieutenant out the corner of his mouth.

“Ah. Right. Thank you, lieutenant.” Clearing his throat, he roared again, “Ahoy, lubbers!”

He got the vaguest groan in reply from the crowd. The first lieutenant looked anxiously at the Pirate Captain, but the Pirate Captain was undeterred.

“What are you all staring at, you coves?” he exclaimed. “Is that any way to greet a dashing terror of the high seas?”

Nothing. Nothing, that was, until the silence was broken by a splutter of laughter from the other side of the room, and the first lieutenant saw two pirates leaning cockily against the bar. One of them was a burly pirate with a leopard-print hat and a peg-leg, and the other was a lady pirate who looked as deadly as she was beautiful. He recognised their faces from the wanted posters at once: Peg-Leg Hastings and Cutlass Liz.

“Oh, hello, Peg-Leg. Cutlass,” said the Pirate Captain cheerfully. “Fancy seeing you two here! I’m just in for a bit of R and R after a hard day’s plundering. You know, burning and sinking, striking fear into the hearts of all who face me.”

Cutlass Liz gave a beautiful, deadly smirk, and while Peg-Leg Hastings snickered helplessly in the background, she sneered, “Oh yeah? And what was it this time, Captain? Don’t tell me, you raided an ancient pyramid while you fought off killer mummies with only a toothbrush while leaping over spike-traps with your feet tied together?”

A collective snicker went around the room at that. The first lieutenant caught the look of hurt that flashed over the Pirate Captain’s face, and he glared at Hastings and Cutlass.

“Yeah,” chimed in Peg-Leg Hastings over Cutlass Liz’s shoulder, “that’s almost as good as the one he told us about his adventure with the glue factory!”

The snickers turned into a lot of muffled chuckling, and the Pirate Captain’s chest puffed out with indignation, while Polly glared at them from his shoulder with all the contempt that a funny-looking parrot with a sweet-natured face could manage.

“Actually, no,” said the Pirate Captain loftily. “For your information, I have just returned from my daring capture of a Royal Navy frigate!”

This time, the whole room erupted with laughter, Peg-Leg Hastings and Cutlass Liz the loudest by far, wiping tears from their eyes and clinging to the bar for support. The first lieutenant stepped forward. “Hey -!”

But the Pirate Captain got in there first: “Laugh all you want!” he exclaimed. “But it’s true. And what’s more, to prove it, I captured the first lieutenant of the frigate and spared his life so he could repeat the terrible tale.” He nudged the first lieutenant in the side. “Say hello, lieutenant.”

The laughter had died away at the Pirate Captain’s declaration, and the first lieutenant found himself facing a sea of hostile pirate faces. He gave them an awkward wave. “Hello.”

“Oh, come now, lieutenant,” said the Pirate Captain in an undertone, “don’t you Royal Navy chaps have any sense of showmanship?” To the assembled pirates, he announced, “I met the first lieutenant on the very quarterdeck of the ship as I boarded. He put up a valiant resistance, but in the end, he was forced to strike his colours to me. But as a mark of respect for his bravery, I allowed him to live, isn’t that right, lieutenant?”

That didn’t sound a hundred per cent accurate, but the first lieutenant didn’t want the Pirate Captain to lose face in front of this crowd of show-offs, so he replied, “Er... yes.”

“So, Pirate Captain,” said Cutlass Liz, cocking an eyebrow, “if you really captured this Royal Navy ship, what kind of booty did you get? Doubloons? Gems?”

“Ah - well - I...” stammered the Pirate Captain, blushing a little. “The truth is, I didn’t get any booty in the - in the traditional sense of the word...”

Cutlass Liz and Peg-Leg Hastings exchanged a smug look.

“- but what I _did_ get,” carried on the Pirate Captain, “was _this_!”

And with these words, he pulled the Prize Ham from his beard and held it up. At the same moment, a cloud parted in the sky outside, and a shaft of sunlight came streaming through the window to illuminate the ham. The laughter turned at once to oohs and aahs of admiration, and Cutlass Liz and Peg-Leg Hastings were left looking gobsmacked as the air was filled with pirate cheers.

-

“There, you see, lieutenant,” said the Pirate Captain, “if there's one thing a pirate likes more than booty, it’s ham.”

“I see that now, sir,” replied the first lieutenant with a smile.

They were sitting at a table in the corner of the Barnacle’s Face, enjoying a couple of tankards of grog and a meal of ham and chips. For a while, the crowd of pirates had eagerly surrounded the Pirate Captain, begging him to tell them the story of how he had captured the frigate and found the ham; then when he was finished, they begged for an encore, which had contained surprisingly more swashbuckling, daring rooftop chases, and sultry mermaids than the first lieutenant remembered from the events of that morning, but he kept his very wry thoughts on the matter to himself. Now that the novelty of the Prize Ham had worn off, the crowd had left the Pirate Captain and the first lieutenant to their own devices, and the tavern was once again filled with the sound of piratical roaring, accordion music, and increasingly explicit shanties.

“As I’ve always said,” said the Pirate Captain happily, “ham is the universal language. Or was it something else? No, no, I’m sure it was definitely ham. Like ham, do you, lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir,” said the first lieutenant. He did, very much, as a matter of fact, but it wasn’t something that was on the menu very often in the gunroom of the _Competence_. 

“There, you see!” cried the Pirate Captain, pounding the table with his fist and waking up Polly from her nap. “Thanks to ham, there is something that a navy man like you and a debonair terror of the high seas like myself can have in common, after all!”

They smiled at each other at that, and maybe it was just the grog, or the excitement of the evening, but it seemed to the first lieutenant that the Pirate Captain’s eyes were even more glittering than usual, his teeth even more gleaming, his beard even more luxuriant. His pulse gave a strange little leap.

“It certainly took those two down a peg or two,” he said quickly to distract himself, nodding to a table at the opposite end of the room, where Cutlass Liz and Peg-Leg Hastings were having a rather sulky arm-wrestling match.

The Pirate Captain chuckled. “Yes, indeed. If only Black Bellamy had been here as well; that would certainly have swiped the grin off his face, the smug swab.”

“You know Black Bellamy, Captain?” asked the first lieutenant, a little awed. Even amongst the officers of the Royal Navy, it was a name that only the most fearless dared utter. Admiral St. Vincent could do it on a good day, but that was about it.

"Know him?” thundered the Pirate Captain, earning a disapproving look from the barmaid who was passing by. “He’s my arch-nemesis - a good pirate always has to have an arch-nemesis, you know - and I would have won Pirate of the Year long ago if it weren’t for that scurvy knave.” And he lapsed into a brooding silence that even Polly couldn’t nudge him out of.

The first lieutenant, seeing that this brooding might go on for some time, got up and wandered over to the salad bar to replenish his bowl. When he returned, he saw the Pirate Captain in much higher spirits, and that their table had a visitor. As he approached, the Pirate Captain turned and waved to him.

“Ah, there you are, lieutenant! Come over here, there’s someone you should meet!”

“Sir?”

“Delighted to meet you at last, Pirate Captain!” said the newcomer with a deep bow. “My name is Admiral Nelson.”

“Can you believe this, lieutenant?” cried the Pirate Captain in delight. “Even Admiral Nelson has heard of my Prize Ham!”

The first lieutenant tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied Admiral Nelson. He was dressed in a navy coat and hat, all right, but he had grown a large black beard, and it looked for all the world as if his right arm wasn’t actually missing, but was in actual fact stuffed rather uncomfortably inside his coat.

“Oh yes,” he was saying to the Pirate Captain, “I was most thrilled to hear about your daring escapade, Pirate Captain, and I absolutely had to sail over and meet you in person, one dashing legend of the high seas to another! I would love to see this Prize Ham of yours, if at all possible!”

“Why, of course!” cried the Pirate Captain in delight, and was just about to reach inside his beard, when the first lieutenant cut across him quickly:

“Captain, sir, can I have a word with you for a second?”

“Oh. Well, I suppose so,” said the Pirate Captain, a bit put out. “As long as it’s a quick one. Pardon us, will you, Admiral?”

“Of course, of course,” said Admiral Nelson affably, but the first lieutenant had the feeling he was watching them very closely from beneath those thick black eyebrows of his.

“Now what’s all this about, lieutenant?” said the Pirate Captain rather impatiently, once the first lieutenant had got to him to one side. “You realise it’s not polite to keep Admiral Nelson waiting like this?”

“That’s just it, Captain,” whispered the first lieutenant, “I don’t think that _is_ Admiral Nelson.”

“Oh, pah!” snorted the Pirate Captain. “I think I know an impostor Admiral Nelson when I see one!”

“But, sir -”

“No ‘buts’, lieutenant. I’m surprised at you.” 

Before the first lieutenant could say anything else, the Pirate Captain had already turned away, and pulled his Prize Ham out of his beard with a flourish.

“Here we go, Admiral! The Prize Ham itself!”

And he put it straight into Admiral Nelson’s hand.

“It’s marvellous, Captain,” breathed Admiral Nelson in admiration as he gazed down at it. “To plunder such a thing, you must be the most dashing, gallant... gullible _idiot_ who ever sailed the seven seas!”

Before anyone had time to react, there was a sudden blinding explosion of gunpowder, and half the pirates in the tavern were thrown off their feet. The first lieutenant was the first who managed to totter upright again, and after glancing wildly around for a second, he managed to find the Pirate Captain’s prone form through the clouds of smoke.

“Captain!” he cried, hauling him to his feet. “Captain, are you all right?”

“Hell’s barnacles,” muttered the Pirate Captain, who seemed a bit dazed, but thankfully unhurt. “That was quite a - _Admiral Nelson_!”

They both whipped their heads round, peering through the thinning smoke, just in time to see Admiral Nelson fleeing out the door, cackling.

“Hold it right there, you lubber!” bellowed the Pirate Captain, grabbing both Polly and his cutlass as he tore out of the door in hot pursuit of the rogue admiral. The first lieutenant was right behind him, leaving a lot of dazed and disgruntled pirates in their wake.

Outside in the street, they looked around, trying to work out where the admiral could have got to, when they heard the same triumphant cackle over by the docks. Exchanging a nod, they raced to the quayside, just in time to see a ship pulling away from the docks, ploughing straight over the poor old pirate in the jolly-boat who had come a cropper of their own ship earlier. The first lieutenant cringed, but was distracted as the ship sailed past them and they could see the name painted on her stern: the _Barbary Hen_.

“Sweet Neptune on rollerskates!” cried the Pirate Captain. “Black Bellamy!”

The pirate himself appeared at that same moment on the deck of the _Barbary Hen_ \- minus his admiral’s coat, and very definitely possessing two arms - and waved the Prize Ham mockingly in their direction.

“Missing something, Captain?”

“Unhand that ham, Bellamy!” shouted the Pirate Captain, shaking his fist at his arch-nemesis.

“That’s _Admiral_ Bellamy to you, Pirate Captain!” came the reply, as the _Barbary Hen_ sailed out of the harbour towards the open sea.

With a roar of frustration, the Pirate Captain tore off his hat and jumped on it for a few seconds, before cramming it, slightly crumpled, back on his head.

“Blast! Black Bellamy - I should have known! He’s never done boasting about the time he disguised himself as Admiral Nelson in order to steal Admiral Collingwood’s drinks cabinet.”

The first lieutenant remembered that incident. Admiral Collingwood hadn’t spoken to Admiral Nelson for a month afterwards. But there were more urgent matters at hand now, and he asked, “So what do we do, Captain?”

“Do?” echoed the Pirate Captain, blinking.

“Yes, Captain, _do_. Surely you’re not going to let Black Bellamy get away with this? Isn’t there some sort of pirates’ code of honour that you all have to stick to? Can’t your Pirate King do something about him?”

“Oh, what’s the use?” sighed the Pirate Captain, stroking Polly sadly while she made sympathetic clucking noises. “Bellamy always wins. I’ll never be able to win even a tiny bit of respect when he keeps outwitting me like this!”

“Captain!” exclaimed the first lieutenant in dismay. This wasn’t the type of attitude he expected from the daring, if slightly misguided, terror of the high seas who had boarded his ship that morning. “He’ll only outwit you if you let him! But if we set sail now, we can pursue him, board him, and take back the ham!”

The Pirate Captain raised his head, and was it the first lieutenant’s imagination, or could he see the faintest glimmer of hope in those brown eyes? “Do you really think I could do it, lieutenant?”

“Of course!” said the first lieutenant, and he meant it. “If you can take the _Competence_ , you can take Black Bellamy! And if you put one over on him now, it might convince him to get off your case long enough for you to work towards qualifying for Pirate of the Year!”

The Pirate Captain looked at Polly, who gave an encouraging squawk, and at the first lieutenant, who smiled at him. A grin slowly appeared on his face, and even his beard seemed to regain some of its usual glossiness. “By Neptune, you’re right, lieutenant! What am I doing, sitting about here moping like a jellyfish? Let’s show that scurvy cove a thing or two about real piracy!” He brandished his cutlass in the air, then paused. “Ah... you’ll be coming, too, won’t you?”

“Of course, sir.” Truth be told, he had already made up his mind to accompany the Pirate Captain. A pursuit of this type would require seamanship and navigation, and all the Pirate Captain had to rely on was his own wits, and a fish in a hat.

“Excellent!” roared the Pirate Captain. “Hoist the flag and... er... do you happen to remember where I left the boat, lieutenant?”

-

And so commenced a long, gruelling chase across the seven seas (well, maybe just one or two seas). It probably should have contained plenty of hurricanes, sea monsters, and icebergs, but was really just a bit tedious, as it seemed that no matter which way they looked, the _Barbary Hen_ always seemed to be hidden just over the edge of the horizon. The only vaguely memorable incident was when the Pirate Captain tried to slide down the rigging from the crow’s nest in one smooth, expert movement, but succeeded only in burning the palms of his hands and falling the last twenty feet to the deck. The first lieutenant had to help him over to a deckchair and rub cream into his hands, scolding him gently all the while to be more careful.

Apart from that, though, the chase went on without incident. The afternoon was getting on, and the first lieutenant was looking through his telescope with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, while the Pirate Captain read the latest issue of _Ahoy!_ and Polly dozed in his lap.

Then, just when it seemed that nothing would break the monotony of the horizon...

“Captain! Two points off the starboard bow!”

The Pirate Captain leapt up so fast that he nearly overset Polly, who gave a few panicky flaps of her short wings before he caught her. Stroking her head soothingly, he called to the first lieutenant, “Is it the _Barbary Hen_?”

“I’m sure it is, sir. If we set stuns’ls, we can catch up with him in no time!”

“Excellent, lieutenant! You set these - er - these stunning sails of yours, and we’ll get after the knave!”

The stuns’ls were set, and with a noise like the screeching of tires, the pirate ship leaped across the water and to catch up with the distant ship. The thrill of the chase returned; the Pirate Captain and the first lieutenant stood at the bowsprit together, clinging to the rigging, the wind rushing through their hair and the Pirate Captain’s beard, and they exchanged a smile of pure exhilaration.

“By Neptune, it’s the _Barbary Hen_ , all right!” cried the Pirate Captain. “Let’s give him a cannonball or two, lieutenant! We’ll blast the lubber out the water, just like that naval fellow who had those cannons with all the special gizmos.”

“Philip Broke, sir.”

“Oh, dear. Did he? I do hope he can be fixed. Anyway, let’s give Bellamy a warning shot!”

Cannon number three boomed out, and the ball skittered across the deck of the _Barbary Hen_ , knocking over pirates like bowling pins, and bowling pins like pirates, shattering the glass out of which Black Bellamy was drinking a very fancy cocktail of some kind, and snapping the little umbrella in it to boot. He leapt out of his chair in shock, and looked back through his telescope at them.

“Haha!” crowed the Pirate Captain, watching Bellamy through his own glass. “That’s wiped the smug grin off his face, the swab! Let’s board, lieutenant!”

“Aye aye, sir!” cried the first lieutenant, feeling a surge of very piratical emotion surge through him. He even felt the urge to put a knife between his teeth, but he managed to resist it, since that would probably just seem pretentious, and settled instead for fetching the grappling-hooks.

“Guard the ship, Number Two!” called the Pirate Captain to the fish in a hat. Then, seizing the rope in his hands, he threw it round the mainyard of the _Barbary Hen_ , and swung across with a roar that was almost as stentorian as his nose. The first lieutenant swung just behind. They plunged their daggers into the _Barbary Hen_ ’s mainsail and slid down with a great ripping of canvas until they landed with their feet squarely on the deck before Black Bellamy.

“Avast!” cried the Pirate Captain, drawing his cutlass and waving the pointy end in Black Bellamy’s face, while the first lieutenant did his best to look threatening in the background. “I have you now, Bellamy!”

Black Bellamy may have shown a twinge of surprise at their warning shot and their boarding, but he quickly covered it up with the same maverick smirk that the first lieutenant recognised from his wanted posters, and swaggered over to meet them with his hand outstretched.

“Pirate Captain, my man! Thanks for dropping in,” he said, casting a pointed glance up at his ruined mainsail. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“What’s up?” spluttered the Pirate Captain. “Hand over my Prize Ham, Bellamy, or I’ll run you through like a... like a particularly scurvy kebab!”

“Captain, Captain,” breezed Black Bellamy, waving his hands. “There’s obviously been some kinda misunderstanding. _Me_ , steal a Prize Ham from my good friend, the Pirate Captain? Can you ever imagine me doing such a thing? Though, now I think about it, I thought I heard a rumour that Admiral Nelson was going around stealing pirate hams, so you might wanna check with him...”

The Pirate Captain looked down, flicking a speck of dust awkwardly from the edge of his cutlass. “Well...” he murmured, “I was sure that... but I suppose there’s always a chance I made a mistake...”

“Captain, no!” burst out the first lieutenant, unable to contain himself. “We know what we saw! You said yourself that Black Bellamy was always boasting about his Admiral Nelson disguise.”

For the first time, Black Bellamy seemed to take notice of him. “And who are you meant to be?” he sneered, fixing him with a glare that might have made lesser pirates quiver, but which the first lieutenant met unflinchingly. He’d already sussed Black Bellamy for a bullying windbag who cared more for style than real piratical substance.

“Oh, he’s -” began the Pirate Captain, but the first lieutenant got in first:

“I’m his first mate.”

“You are?” said both the Pirate Captain and Black Bellamy at the same time, looking at him wide-eyed.

“He is?” said Black Bellamy, rounding on the Pirate Captain.

“He is...?” asked the Pirate Captain. Then his eyes met the first lieutenant’s. “I mean - ah - he is! Of course he is! And he saw through your sneaky trick as well, Bellamy, so don’t think you can talk your way out of this one!”

Black Bellamy’s mouth gave a very pleasant smile, but his eyes were scowling with a force that could wither even the most persistent barnacles off a ship’s keel.

“Well, you got me,” he said, holding up his hands and chuckling. “I guess the only thing to do now now is settle this in true piratical fashion.”

“Yes!” agreed the Pirate Captain. “With the traditional game of rummy!”

“No,” said Black Bellamy, and drew his own cutlass with a sudden flourish that made both the Pirate Captain and the first lieutenant jump. “With a fight to the death!”

“Oh,” said the Pirate Captain. “Yes. I knew that. _En garde_ , then, you black-hearted fiend!”

“Captain...” said the first lieutenant hesitantly.

“Hush, lieutenant! I must face this alone, to satisfy my pirate honour. Have at you, Bellamy!”

“Have at you yourself, Captain! I’ll beat you as soundly as a Dracula would beat a shark!”

“Pah! Everyone knows that a shark would probably beat a Dracula!”

“In a straight fight, maybe, but Draculas are notoriously dirty fighters! A shark wouldn’t stand a chance!”

Cutlass met cutlass with a ringing clash, and then they were at it, fighting in a hurricane of blades and beards, all the while debating whether or not a shark could beat a Dracula, all of it punctuated it with a lot of piratical roaring as they fought their way across the deck, the rigging, the yards, and even the waterslide installed around the _Barbary Hen_ ’s mainmast. The first lieutenant and the rest of Black Bellamy’s crew stood around feeling a bit awkward, not really sure what they should be doing in the meantime. Some of the crew were cheering their captain on, some had begun a sweepstake on the outcome of the fight, whereas some had begun to get bored and had either started racing hermit crabs or reading from the ship’s rack of out-of-date magazines.

The first lieutenant found himself caught in a half-Nelson by a heavily tattooed pirate who muttered, “Sorry, mate, it’s nothing personal, but we should probably be trying to capture you, you being the Pirate Captain’s first mate and all.”

“No, that’s fine,” said the first lieutenant, a little croakily, what with the muscular arm wrapped around his neck. “I understand.”

They both ducked a stray cutlass swing as the duel moved quite dangerously close to them. The two fighting figures whirled past, and the first lieutenant realised with a thrill that it looked as if the Pirate Captain might just manage to get Black Bellamy cornered against the ship’s wheel. 

Black Bellamy seemed to realise this as well, for just then he pointed with his free hand and shouted, “Look over there! A scantily-clad mermaid giving out free treasure maps!”

“Neptune’s ears! Where?” cried the Pirate Captain, swinging round to see, and the first lieutenant wrested a hand free from the heavily tattooed pirate’s grip so he could clap it over his face with a groan - but not before he saw the evil grin on Black Bellamy’s face. He brought his cutlass up with a slash that might have slit the gizzard of any ordinary man, but merely rebounded off the luxuriant mass of the Pirate Captain’s beard. As it did so, a number of items fell out of it, including a few grapeshot, an alarm clock, and a bottle of the Pirate Captain’s beard gel (made from real bear grease), which shattered on the deck and created a spreading puddle across the timbers. Out of sheer surprise, the Pirate Captain lost his grip on his cutlass, and it flew out of his hand to wedge itself strategically between the legs of a nearby pirate, who gave the expected high-pitched screech.

That was when the Pirate Captain realised that the fight was no longer in his favour, and he looked at his empty hands in dismay, then up at Bellamy, who smirked, and pressed the point of his cutlass against the Pirate Captain’s chest.

“Of course, Captain,” he drawled, “the _real_ reason why a Dracula would win against a shark is because a shark has no opposable thumbs to hold a cutlass. Anything you wanna say to that before I run you through?”

The first lieutenant could hardly bear to watch. He saw, as if in slow-motion, the Pirate Captain fall back a step, and Black Bellamy, his triumphant grin nearly taking up his whole face, follow him. But he just happened to place his foot in the puddle of beard gel, and with a yell, he fell back to land on the deck. The impact also caused his hat to fly off, revealing the Prize Ham hidden underneath.

“I’ll have that, you rogue!” said the Pirate Captain, snatching it up and tucking it safely into his beard, along with the alarm clock and the grapeshot.

“Here, Captain!” said the first lieutenant, wrestling free of the heavily tattooed pirate’s not particularly tenacious grip, and tossing him his own cutlass.

“Aaarrrr! Thank you, Number Two, I knew I could rely on you,” said the Pirate Captain, pressing the point of the blade to Black Bellamy’s chest. “In answer to your question, Bellamy, everyone knows that a shark would beat a Dracula because a shark’s opportunistic feeding habits mean that it can employ a variety of different hunting techniques, whereas a Dracula is limited to only one or two well-known methods of catching its prey: seducing ladies in white nighties, or turning into a vampire bat. Now, I’ll just take this ham back, if you don’t mind, and be on my way.”

A growl escaped Black Bellamy’s throat, but he managed to smooth even that over with a smile. “Well, it’s only fair that I let my good friend the Pirate Captain win a duel every now and then.” Wriggling back to his feet, he swept him a low bow. “And as a token of my goodwill, I’ll even let you in on a little secret about a treasure hoard of golden doubloons in Deadman’s Cove. If you hurry, you might be able to find it before any other undeserving lubber gets their hands on it.”

“Well,” said the Pirate Captain, smiling widely, “I say, that is remarkably civil of you, Bellamy. Thank you very much.”

-

The Pirate Captain and the first lieutenant stood on the deck of the pirate ship, watching the _Barbary Hen_ sail off into the sunset, with the faint echoes of Black Bellamy’s laughter floating back across the open water.

“Well, that was quite an adventure,” said the Pirate Captain with an air of satisfaction, as he stroked Polly’s head and she gave a happy coo, pleased to see him again. “And Black Bellamy was even good enough to make amends by telling us about that hoard of doubloons in Deadman’s Cove. Funny place for a hoard, don’t you think, what with that nest of krakens, and all those tales about how no one who ever sails in ever sails out alive?”

“Yes, sir,” said the first lieutenant mildly, “and the Royal Navy squadron scouring the nearby seas for unsuspecting pirates.”

“Oh. Really?” The Pirate Captain’s brow furrowed as he considered this. “You don’t... you don’t suppose, do you, that Black Bellamy was just trying to pull a fast one on us?”

The first lieutenant gave a smile that was already beginning to feel like a rather long-suffering one. “Maybe, sir.”

“Oh, barnacles,” muttered the Pirate Captain. “That’s no good, then. But -” He caught himself, shared a look with Polly, then went on, “but what what about you, lieutenant? Wouldn’t you like to get back to those Royal Navy chaps of yours?”

The first lieutenant sighed. He had known that he would have to make this decision sooner or later, but now that it was upon him, he felt a little rueful. “I don’t think they’d be very happy to see me again, Captain, not after I surrendered the frigate to you and then joined forces with you to retake the booty you plundered from it in the first place. In fact, I’m probably not even a lieutenant any more. I suppose now I’m just a pirate.” He looked down at himself. “A pirate with a scarf.”

Besides, he reflected privately, he didn’t think he could go back to the Navy with a clear conscience, now that he knew there was such a person as the Pirate Captain sailing the seven seas, who would get himself into who knew what kind of trouble without anyone to look after him.

“Oh,” said the Pirate Captain, and coughed a little. “Well... you know - if it’s piracy you’re thinking of... would you consider, perhaps, being my first mate?”

“You mean it, Captain?” He tried not to sound too hopeful.

“Yes, of course. A dashing terror of the high seas needs his trusty second-in-command. And to be honest, that fish in a hat just isn’t cut out for the job.”

They both looked over to the fo’c’sle, where the fish in a hat gulped, oblivious.

“I mean... what I mean to say is... I couldn’t have done it without you, lieutenant, and you seem to know what you’re doing, with the ropes and the sails and all that sort of thing.”

The first lieutenant who was no longer a first lieutenant smiled. “It’d be a pleasure, Captain.”

“Well, by Neptune’s thunder, let’s not waste any more time!” the Pirate Captain roared, his eyes gleaming, and brandished his cutlass in the air. “Set a course for adventure!”

“Shouldn’t we maybe think about getting a proper crew together first, Captain? It’s just that adventures tend to go a lot better if there’s a proper crew to work the ship.”

“Ah. Yes, well, there might be something in that. And pirates in general _are_ drawn to a captain with glittering eyes and a luxuriant beard.” He stroked his own thoughtfully for a second, then remembered himself. “Well, come on then! We’ve no times to sit around all day like tomatoes. The sooner we have a crew, the sooner we can have a proper adventure, preferably somewhere tropical, maybe involving mutant seaweed monsters.”

And with those words, the Pirate Captain took the helm and sent a brilliant grin over to his new first mate, who had taken his place at his side, hands folded behind his back, feeling reasonably prepared for whatever might come next.

“Hoist the flag, Number Two!”

“Aye aye, Captain,” said the Pirate with a Scarf, and smiled.


End file.
